Mega Man Zero: Dark Before Dawn
by Laclipsey
Summary: Cast out of his home, a lone reploid finds himself fighting for his survival as a shady organization looms in the shadows. He'd heard the rumors. But he never imagined he'd come face to face with Black Sun. Rated for violence, death, and mild swearing.
1. Prologue: Biding Time

This is a bit of a departure from the norm of fan fiction, almost- but not quite- an alternate take on MegaMan Zero. It's not an alternate reality, but here Neo Arcadia and Zero are not important. In fact, they don't even appear. This story features only characters of my own creation. This story's been underway for nearly three years, and now I'm going back and rewriting it. It'll be slow, but I'm looking forward to it. Anyway, this takes place in the year 2236, and before Zero's awakening. I don't own MegaMan, Zero, MegaMan Zero, or any related characters or concepts. Enjoy!

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Prologue: Biding Time

_Excerpt from the Research Journal of Sycorax Terryl, Disc 4 (Encrypted)_

_Some would agree that giving robots free will is suicide. And in a way, they may be right. Nevertheless, the reploids exist and thrive. The reploids are robots that are intended to mimic humans in every feasible way, which inevitably means that they are capable of free thought, unbound by concepts such as prime programming. Some have chosen to walk the straight and narrow, walking hand in hand with their human creators as humanity had hoped._

_Inevitably, however, there were those that rebelled and tried to destroy humans. The cause of these malicious intentions even now remains a mystery, as no single catalyst can be pinpointed. While rumors of the remotely transferred "Sigma Virus" explained why so many reploids turned against their creators, it did not, upon investigation, hold true for all haters of the human race._

_Whatever drove them to do what they did, such reploids were labeled "mavericks" and were targeted for termination by extremist reploid warriors calling themselves "Maverick Hunters."_

_This, of course, rapidly and invariably escalated into a full-scale war between humanity and those who sought to destroy it. The Maverick Wars, as these battles are collectively called, have lasted nearly a century. Now only reploid veterans from pre-war times remember what peace was truly like. The Maverick Hunters themselves were nearly destroyed by the efforts of mavericks, forced to form smaller bands of vigilante justice scattered across the world, some of them retaining the integrity of their original mission, others forced to become freelance mercenaries just to survive._

_The year is 2236. Two years ago, one such group, known as the Blade Hunters, joined Area X Governor Giovanni Harken, one of the more outspoken voices of peace in these troubled times, in order to watch over the metropolitan city of Area X and keep its people safe. It is a peaceful haven in this war-torn land, protected by the combined might of former Maverick Hunters. But its people carry with them war-torn hearts, and nothing is forgotten… Or forgiven. Nevertheless, we press on doing what we can to put the war behind us._

_Myself… I am a state robotics researcher for Governor Harken. It's the only way I've been able to use my talents for the good of society. Ever since my son nearly lost his life in that maverick raid three years ago, I've been trying to further my endeavors in robotics, both to save him and to protect our home._

_Yes, these are indeed desperate times._

* * *

"This is all you've got done?" asked the general, piercing his underling with a disdainful glare.

"Y-Yes, sir," stammered a workman, alarmed by the general's large gun, and the ease with which he carried it.

"Look, lemme show you something," said the general quietly, gripping the workman's shoulder harder than was necessary and pointing at the far wall and the mess of electrical wiring littering the hangar bay floor. "Here's the main hangar control board. And look, there's the wire."

"Y-Yes, General," the workman stuttered, not quite knowing what to expect next.

"But the control board won't help us very much unless it's connected to the network with the wire. No good at all."

"No, General," the workman quickly agreed.

"And we are on a deadline, so if you'd kindly hurry up…"

"Right away, sir."

The general stared at the cowering workman for a brief moment.

"NOW!" The general roared the word, sending the workman scurrying toward the control panel with a terrified, "Y-Yes, sir!"

General Gloaming gave a satisfied smile, silently congratulating himself on a job well done.

Gloaming was an intimidating figure. He was very tall, very muscular, and very short-tempered. His blue and silver battle armor accentuated his broad shoulders and massive frame. A blue waistcoat and a gun almost as long as he was tall were reminiscent of an old Union soldier with a modern bazooka.

A new voice, sardonic and cold, addressed the victorious general. "Honestly, Gloaming. Was that really necessary?"

Black Sun's Third General whirled around to face the voice's owner, and instantly, his eye twitched in a strange mixture of anger and discomfort.  
Black Sun's Commander stood before him, calm and collected as ever, twirling his unlit beam saber between his fingers, apparently demanding an explanation.

Gloaming complied with the unsaid order. "Commander Midnight, this is going far too slow! These workers are all incompetent engineers, and when it comes to computers, they can't tell a bit from a byte."

"If I recall correctly," Midnight replied indifferently. "Neither can you." Gloaming's eye twitched again at this insult. Midnight laughed and went on. "Ah, Gloaming. I do appreciate your enthusiasm. But really, taking out your anger on common grunts?"

Gloaming wasn't in the mood to be chastised. "Commander, you know better than anyone that we have to begin soon, before we're discovered up here! All it takes is one more slip up, and we're history. _One more!_ Is that really a risk we can afford? All for the completion of this space gun? We don't need this thing to run at full capacity yet. I say we begin the operation now."

Midnight nodded calmly, and put his saber in a pouch beneath his cape. "I understand your concerns, General. And frankly, I agree. This is a delicate situation. We're weak, vulnerable, and next to powerless now. If the military found us now, they could completely destroy us and nip our plan in the bud."

"Then why in blazes are we wasting our time floating around up here?" the general growled through gritted teeth.

"We've had a few setbacks," said Midnight, starting down the staircase to the next docking bay floor. Gloaming turned to follow him. "We're not currently _able _to begin the operation."

Gloaming's eyes narrowed. "Setbacks?"

"Crepuscule encountered more resistance than expected at the shipyard. We had to send several squadrons to help out."

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised," Gloaming scowled. "Crepuscule isn't exactly the man of choice to send on an infiltration and theft mission."

"Case in point," Midnight agreed. "A slight miscalculation on my part. However, I'm confident Nightshade will have no problems securing our supplies from the freighter junction."

"Makes sense," Gloaming muttered. "So what other problems have we run into?"

Midnight looked back at Gloaming as he reached the bottom of the staircase. "Pardon?"

"You said setbacks. Plural. You named Crepuscule's near failure at the shipyard. What else?"

Midnight shrugged. "I suppose you could say it's taking longer than anticipated to complete this space station."

"That's what I said before," Gloaming growled. "It's just supposed to be our hideout, right?"

"Well, really more than that," said Midnight, turning to face him fully.

"What do you mean?"

"This space station is equipped with a full cloaking shield that renders it invisible to the naked eye and absorbs all radar and sonar signals. It is a fully functional hideout and base of operations and can be utilized as such immediately. But to begin the operation, dear Gloaming, we require the full power of the station. Until then, we're safe as long as we are careful."

Gloaming sighed. "Fine. I sure hope you know what you're doing, Commander. 'Cause all our necks are on the line here."

"I know, Gloaming," said Midnight, acknowledging his subordinate with a slight nod. "I know."


	2. Chapter 1: Black Sun

**Chapter 1: Black Sun**

It was a slow day. Days in Area X generally were. But then, it was easy to become accustomed to the routine monotony of life in Area X, one of the last safe havens in the world which remained unaffected by the Maverick Wars… Where peaceful life was still possible.

Outside its gargantuan stone walls, the war raged on between maverick and Hunter. It had been nearly a century, now, since the mavericks first waged war on humanity. No one now remembered a time of peace, a time of acceptance. Those days had long since been reduced to lofty ideals, shouted at fresh recruits to give them some sense of why they were fighting. But no one knew what it meant. And as he leaned back in his seat in Finnegan's Diner, the reploid Eclipse contemplated how thin the barrier was for the people of Area X, between order and chaos, peace and war. For them, only the outer wall separated them from mass genocide.

But for now, this colossal metropolitan city was in good hands under the protection of former Maverick Hunters, the ones calling themselves the Blade Hunters. As far as Hunter remnants went, the minimal variation from their original name was generally a good indication that their core ideals hadn't changed all that much since they had been full-fledged Maverick Hunters. And their leader, Blade Commander Edge, was as competent as commanding officers came, or so Eclipse had heard. He could only hope, for the city's sake, that the rumors were accurate.

Eclipse turned his thoughts to less serious matters. He knew he shouldn't let the big questions bog him down so, but they were hard to keep out of his mind, with constant reminders of the instability of the world at home.

Eclipse was a lean reploid of average height, sporting sleek flat black armor with bright red trim. In the absence of his streamlined combat helmet, his long auburn hair was left to fall lazily about his waist. He drummed the fingers of his gloved hand on the surface of the table, waiting for the man he was supposed to meet.

Finnegan's Diner, a secluded restaurant on the northwest side of Area X. Home of the greasiest burger on earth, or as close as made no difference. But Eclipse wasn't here to taste the restaurant's notoriously greasy burgers and fries. In truth, the food was only barely edible at Finnegan's. To his knowledge, the only reason people came to this restaurant at all was to taste its famous milkshakes. No, he was here on behalf of a business deal. And as much as he disliked doing business, errands such as these were the only times he was allowed into Area X, or even away from home, for that matter. And for that reason, he looked forward to these little jaunts into the city.

He craned his neck to glance at the clock displayed on the wall behind him. 2:56 PM. His client was nearly half an hour late, and hadn't called to let him know how much longer he would be.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" asked the waitress for the umpteenth time since he'd sat down.

"No, thank you," Eclipse replied. "I'm just waiting for a friend of mine. He's running a bit late."

The waitress smiled and gave him a sympathetic nod. "All right, then. Let me know if you change your mind."

As the waitress walked away, Eclipse massaged his temples with his thumb and forefinger. He was beginning to feel self-conscious, having been here so long without ordering anything. It was lucky that there weren't very many people in the restaurant. If they'd been packed, he'd have given up his table for someone else long ago, and he would have had to stand in line again. But still, it made Eclipse feel he'd overstayed his welcome.

He was just about to stand up and leave when the man he'd been waiting for rushed through the double doors, tossing all subtlety to the wind and earning several disapproving stares from annoyed customers. Blushing slightly, the man nervously made his way to Eclipse's table, glancing around at the many people staring at him as they choked down rubbery burgers. The man appeared to be in his late fifties, and was tall and thin, with a face that might once have been handsome, but had been layered with years of stress and age. Two brilliant blue eyes blinked from beneath a shock of graying black hair. The shadow of a beard accented his broad face, and he wore a navy blue overcoat, which he unbuttoned as he approached Eclipse.

"Eclipse," he said. "Terribly sorry to have kept you waiting."

"Professor Metis," said Eclipse with a genuine smile. "Good to see you." Eclipse found himself suddenly at ease. Jango Metis was a former associate of Eclipse's creator, Sycorax Terryl. He and Eclipse had met on several occasions in the past, and had become good friends.

Metis took a seat across from Eclipse.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "I ran a bit late at the lab. I would have called, but by the time I was halfway here I realized I'd forgotten my pager."

Eclipse allowed himself to chuckle. Metis had been known for being forgetful from time to time.

"That's all right," he said.

"So," the man said warmly. "How have you been, Eclipse?"

"Been better," Eclipse said, with something between a smile and a grimace. "Terryl's been sending me all over, looking for parts to his latest project."

Metis frowned sympathetically. "Ah, Terryl. He's a workaholic, that one. That's just the way it is with him, isn't it? All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, as the saying goes. But he's still a good man."

Eclipse nodded halfheartedly. "Yeah…"

The change in Eclipse's tone went unnoticed by the human. "So, have you heard the news?"

Eclipse raised an eyebrow. "What news?"

Metis looked as if he had seen a ghost. "'What news?' The news that's been plastered on the front cover of _Tidbits_ for weeks! Black Sun! Haven't you heard the name, at least?"

Eclipse could not honestly say that he had. He didn't read the newspapers, particularly _Tidbits_, and had no access to a television, so he was clueless as Metis stared unbelievingly at him.

"You don't hear _anything _out there in the boondocks, do you?"

"Tell me," Eclipse said indifferently.

Metis remained staring at him for a few seconds longer, then replied in a low voice, "Okay. Listen. The crime syndicate Black Sun has been the talk of the town for the past six weeks. It's committed genocide, theft, and hijacking worldwide."

Just then the waitress from before approached Metis.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" she asked politely.

"Ah, just a burger and tea, thanks."

"Coming right, up. And for you?" she asked, turning to Eclipse.

"I still don't need anything, thank you," said Eclipse, treating her to a warm smile.

The waitress smiled courteously and promptly left. When she had vanished into the kitchen, Metis lowered his voice again. "We don't know where they came from, or where their base of operations is. They strike, they win, they disappear. That's the way of Black Sun. And they're unpredictable, so it's hard to prepare for them. Just last week they hit the Area T-4 Shipyards with three platoons of their finest fighters and made off with a number of small warships. Area T-4! One of the most guarded sanctuaries in the area!"

"What are they after?" Eclipse pressed. "Money? Power?"

Metis shook his head. "Everyone speculates, but no one seems to know for sure."

"Interesting," Eclipse said, intrigued. "Any ideas on your end?"

The professor hesitated as the waitress returned and set his food and tea in front of him.

"Thank you," he said to her as she left. Then he turned to Eclipse. "I really don't know. There's a severe lack of reliable information, so I can't expect to make an accurate call on that."

Metis paused to take a modest sip of the steaming cup of tea in front of him, nearly choked on it, and set the cup down once more.

"Too hot?" Eclipse asked casually.

Metis nodded as he choked down the steaming mouthful.

"What I do know," he rasped. "Is that with all this unrest and instability in the people, peace can't likely last for long. That might be Black Sun's intent. With all the ensuing chaos, it would be much easier to find a way to slip inside the city."

He blew on his tea and cast a sour glance out the window. "I think they're mavericks. They're a threat to all of these little islands of civilization in this war-torn land. They'll wipe out all that's left."

A long silence followed. Eclipse contemplated what Metis had just told him, turning it over in his mind. If his friend was right, the mavericks could easily be close to winning the century-long war. With Black Sun instilling political unrest and pure fear in the people in the places the mavericks themselves couldn't reach, it would be only a matter of time before Area X and places like it were attacked and overrun. A very unsettling thought, indeed.

He was shaken from his thoughts when Metis raised his burger to his mouth.

"Wait, Professor!" he said quickly.

The man dropped his burger back on his plate as if it had suddenly turned into a deadly snake.

"What?" he said frantically.

"I should have told you before..."

Just then a loud "FWOOSH" was heard, and a bright orange glow lit up the kitchen, followed by a maniacal "IT'S ALIIIIIVE!"

As Metis stared at the door to the kitchen, mechanically pushing his food away, Eclipse said, somewhat unnecessarily, "Don't eat the food here." Metis and Eclipse shared a long silence.

"I think the chef's either new or incredibly overworked, because he's been doing that all day," said Eclipse, half to break the silence.

"Thanks for the warning," Metis said, laughing.

"Heh heh… No problem," Eclipse replied.

"Ah… Anyway, I suppose we should get down to business, eh?"

Eclipse watched as Metis reached into his overcoat pocket and brought out a small, dented chunk of shining steel. He set it on the table rather loudly, and Eclipse picked it up and examined it. It was much, much heavier than it looked.

Metis took notice of the perplexed look on his face. "That is the alloy dear Terryl was looking for, wasn't it?"

"I think so," Eclipse replied without looking up. "Plenty dense enough, too. So how much?"

"Two thousand zennys."

Eclipse sat unbelieving as the fidgety human took a sip of his tea for something to do. It was a steep price, made more unbelievable by the fact that he knew nothing about the part. Was it worth it?

At length, he replied, "All right," and handed over several silver coins, each varying in size and engraved with a large "Z." These were hesitantly received by the calloused hand of Metis.

Metis grinned weakly and took another nervous sip of tea.

Eclipse smiled back and tilted his chair onto its rear legs. "So that takes care of business," he said, happy to finally have unpleasantries out of the way.

"Come to think of it," said Metis, prodding at his burger with his index finger. "Couldn't you have told me the food was no good _before _I ordered?"

Eclipse smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I'll pay for your burger."

"No, that's all right," Metis said as he fumbled around in his overcoat pocket once more. "It's not like eight zennys is a lot of money, anyway."

The human brought out four coins like the ones Eclipse had given him and laid them gently on the table.

Of course, eight zennys would be almost nothing to a State Robotics Researcher, a title that Metis himself held, as did Eclipse's creator, Sycorax Terryl. A robotics researcher's job was to further studies in the psyche of reploids. Partially to find out what caused reploids to go Maverick, but mostly to build new reploids equipped for combat, most of which went straight to the Hunter remnants.

"So what's Terryl working on that's got you so busy, Eclipse?" said the human.

"He's fixing up an old spaceship, I think," said Eclipse with a shrug. "Something he found in a junkyard a few months back."

Metis squinted and gave a sort of half-smile. "A spaceship? Did he quit working for Governor Harken?"

"No, it's a project of his own he's pursuing on the side," Eclipse replied. "He's building a couple of robots to man the ship, but I don't know where he plans to take it. Space exploration's pretty much dead nowadays."

"On the contrary," Metis disagreed. "We stopped sending exploration shuttles into space before the war started. A lot can change in a hundred years. There's plenty out there yet to see." The researcher paused to take a sip of his tea, which had by now cooled to a reasonable temperature. "I think it's good of Terryl to pick up where humanity left off. He's rekindling an old flame, so to speak. Doing his best to put all of these problems behind him."

Eclipse nodded halfheartedly. "Yeah."

This time Metis caught the subtle change in Eclipse's voice.

"Everything all right?" he said.

"Yeah, fine," said Eclipse, forcing a smile. "It's just… He spends so much time with his projects, he doesn't have time for much else. It gets lonely out there in the desert."

Metis nodded understandingly. "I can well imagine."

The slight bob of Eclipse's head indicated that he acknowledged and accepted Metis' sympathy. He kept it to himself, but in his head Eclipse knew Metis couldn't well imagine.

He couldn't imagine at all.

* * *

An hour later, Eclipse was approaching Terryl's secluded laboratory in the wastes of the Twilight Desert. It was a quaint little building, a modernized shack of a laboratory with a human living quarters on the second floor, and a large communications antenna on the roof. A ways off to the side was the hulking mass of an unfinished spaceship. He kicked the "ride chaser" air bike into a lower gear as he approached its shed up against the main building.

Coming home was always the worst part. Time to turn his thoughts from the idyllic city life he'd come to know and love and to face his creator again. It was like returning to reality after a good dream: pure anticlimax.

With a sigh he brought the ride chaser to a halt and swung himself off of the seat, neglecting to key the lockdown code. After all, there were no bike thieves this far into the desert. He did, however, close and lock the shed after his exit, out of sheer habit.

He made his way to the back door, a mechanical hatch that slid open upon his approach. As he reluctantly stepped inside, he allowed himself to wonder if he would receive a warm welcome from his creator, though it was almost too much to hope.

Terryl's laboratory was more spacious than its exterior suggested, but it was nevertheless cramped by the array of equipment the scientist employed. Power cables of varying color and thickness trailed across the room, and a number of reploid-sized capsules were lined up along one wall, most of them empty or housing some unfinished project. Research papers and compact disks littered an old-fashioned work desk in the corner, and a giant monitor took up the better part of the far wall. Facing the monitor, watching the endless lines of computer coding scroll by, was a silver-haired man clad in a green lab coat.

Presently the man turned as Eclipse entered the room.

"Eclipse," he said, his voice smooth but layered with age.

"Dr. Terryl," Eclipse greeted him in turn. The man crossed the room in a few quick strides, not bothering to use the metallic cane clutched in his right hand. "Good to see you made it back. You got it, then?" asked Terryl, coming to a stop a few paces away from Eclipse.

Eclipse nodded, discreetly searching his creator's wrinkled face for signs of approval. But his forest green eyes betrayed no such emotion; they simply blinked expectantly at him from behind his rectangular glasses.

He wasn't glad to see him. He was waiting.

With a sigh, Eclipse brought out the heavy chunk of shining steel from beneath his vest. It was eagerly received by Terryl's waiting hand. Immediately, the scientist turned on his heel and took it to a large machine resembling an oversized microwave oven. He opened the main compartment, dropped the object in, closed the door again, and pressed a series of buttons. He then turned back to the screen on the wall.

"Thank you, Eclipse," he said to the reploid, not looking back. "You may go."

Eclipse nodded despite the fact that his creator wasn't looking at him. And with that, he turned on his heel and left the room.

This feeling of neglect was becoming increasingly familiar, and increasingly harder to deal with. And as the hatch hissed shut behind him, Eclipse wondered…

What was it about this life that didn't feel right?


	3. Chapter 2: Refusal

**Chapter 2: Refusal**

* * *

A day had passed. Eclipse was laying down on the roof, staring at the desert clouds. In between errands, there really wasn't a lot for him to do to pass the time. And there was a lot of time to be passed.

Life was fairly simple for Eclipse. He waited until Terryl needed something done, then journeyed out, returned, and waited some more. It was a simple existence, and more than a bit boring. He wasn't allowed to venture into the city unless he was running an errand, the reason being that Terryl's requests could come at any time. And of course there wasn't anyone else around to talk to. His only friends lived in the city, and he only saw them on occasion.

But one of the few things he enjoyed doing was laying out on the roof, sometimes watching the clouds and sometimes simply dozing. It was a simple pleasure, like his simple life. But it gave him a lot of time to think.

He had long since grown used to the sense of longing that pervaded these periods of waiting. And at that, he decided, it was indeed _waiting_. Not waiting for Terryl's next request, but waiting for something more permanent, as if this life was the prologue to something greater. Surely, this couldn't be all that life was meant to be. After all, during his trips into the city, he saw people on the streets, walking and talking, laughing and crying, partaking in activities that he found himself able to indulge in only away from home. Truly _living_.

Perhaps he had always planned on leaving, on finding a place in the city lo live. But he had never quite found the right time to do it. It had always seemed like a distant dream to him, something that could always be done later. This life was comfortable, it was what he knew. He was familiar with it. And aside from the loneliness he often experienced, Eclipse couldn't find anything that was truly wrong with his life here. He had escaped having to fight in the war, at least.

Presently, a deep, smooth voice from the intercom called his attention. "Eclipse, report to the bottom floor, please." It was Terryl. Eclipse allowed himself three more seconds of rest before he sat up and got to his feet. It was a bit early to be going out into the city again. Normally errands came days apart of one another. Not that he was one to complain about a change of pace.

Neglecting to take the stairway through Terryl's quarters, Eclipse strode to the edge of the small one-story building and jumped off, ignoring the ladder, and made his way around to the back of the building, where the steel entrance hatch hissed open upon his arrival. Eclipse stepped through the hatch into the room.

Terryl's face was grave. He pointed to the monitor, which showed a topographic map of the Twilight Desert, with a single red dot moving across its quicksand edge.

"We have incoming," he stated simply. "Intruders, nearing the edge of our home. They're about halfway through the outer rim, and getting closer."

Eclipse frowned. He knew what followed. It wouldn't be the first time Terryl had sent him off to take down aircraft unlucky enough to venture in past the outer rim. It was one of the more unpleasant duties he had to perform in order to earn his keep, and one he had been steadily growing angrier about as of late. Nevertheless, he acted oblivious, clinging to the hope that he could avoid fighting this time.

"Maybe it's someone from Area X," he offered hopefully.

Terryl shook his head. "It's an attack force."

Eclipse frowned. "They're probably just Hunters passing through. I say we wait."

Terryl shook his head. "Maverick Hunters display a different ID signature. The signature of this craft is unlike any I've seen. Most likely mavericks come to recruit my services for their cause. Or else to kill me."

Eclipse fought back the urge to point out how utterly ridiculous that idea sounded. It was the talk of a paranoid recluse who hadn't had human contact in years. Who had grown to mistrust all others. It was that same mistrust, Eclipse knew, that was speaking now. He wanted so badly to say it to his creator's face…

"But how would they know to come here?" he asked instead.

"Perhaps they obtained the information illegally from Governor Harken's records," said Terryl, narrowing his eyes. "I honestly don't know. But no one ever 'just passes through' the Twilight Desert, Eclipse. They come with a specific purpose. Especially if they come during a sandstorm."

Eclipse turned and looked out at the window. Indeed, some miles off, there was a swirling opaque wall of dust and dirt. He had witnessed its beginnings from his vantage point on the roof less than an hour ago. Beyond that wall, he knew, lay the so-called intruders, whatever their intentions were.

"How do you know they're hostile?" he said, without taking his eyes from the sandstorm.

"Eclipse, this is an armed light attack and transport vessel, bearing an unfamiliar signature, headed this way. I would say that's enough."

"I don't really see how that proves they're hostile, Dr. Terryl," Eclipse said, his tone just noticeably more forceful than it had been before. "They could easily have gotten lost in the sandstorms and ended up here."

Again, Terryl shook his head. "Eclipse. I set up my laboratory here in the Twilight Desert, away from the safety of Area X, despite all of Governor Harken's attempts to make me stay. Now answer me this: Why?"

Because you're a paranoid old hermit, Eclipse wanted to say. But in reality he only shrugged.

"Protection," Terryl answered, his face carved from stone. "Three years ago, when I was working in Area X under Governor Harken's direct supervision, my son and I were attacked by mavericks. Imagine it. The safety and security of Area X's inner sanctum was insufficient to keep out those monsters."

Eclipse was silent. He'd heard this story before, of course. But there was no stopping him mid-rant.

"Is it any wonder, then," Terryl continued. "That I chose this place to be our new home? A river of quicksand completely envelops the perimeter of the desert. Frequent sandstorms make navigation tricky if you don't already know the way. And it's away from the city, away from maverick raids and this entire bloody war."

Eclipse gave Terryl a hard look. "I only mean to say that these incoming infiltration ships might not be after us. If we attack them, that could change very quickly."

Terryl frowned. "Why are you so insistent that we do nothing?"

The corners of Eclipse's mouth forced themselves downward in a furious scowl.

"Why are you so insistent that we destroy everyone that comes within six miles of this place?" he countered.

"Watch your tongue," said Terryl quietly, with more than a hint of a threat present in his voice. "Or maybe I should shut you down and build myself a new bodyguard."

Eclipse could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He had never challenged Terryl before, and now he was almost sorry he had. But he couldn't back down now. Not with lives hanging in the balance. He had compromised his belief too many times before.

"I will not kill them," he said quietly and slowly.

"Then don't," Terryl intoned deliberately. "Just make sure their ship is down."

"If I do that now they'll die. If the quicksand doesn't get them, the sandstorm will."

"That's not our problem, Eclipse."

Eclipse stood firm. "I will not go."

For a long moment, Eclipse and his creator stood in tense silence.

"All right," said Terryl at last. "Fine. That's the end of it, then."

Terryl turned on his heel and crossed the room in seven quick strides. He stopped in front of the stasis capsules.

"What are you doing?" Eclipse asked warily.

"I'm preparing the capsule for stasis," Terryl answered, his tone completely devoid of emotion.

Eclipse's eyes went wide with realization as Terryl keyed the unlock code and the glass slid open. The capsule was meant for him. Terryl meant to shut him down.

"Wait!" he said. "Dr. Terryl, please! Try to understand!"

"Oh, I understand, Eclipse. I understand perfectly."

"Dr. Terryl, I was only saying that we should wait and see what they do, I wasn't saying we should do nothing! I'll protect you if it comes to that, but I don't want to fight them unprovoked!"

"I built you with the primary purpose of my protection in mind. If you can't do that, I'll just have to manually override the control chip and emotion grid. Maybe then you'll help your poor creator."

Eclipse grit his teeth so hard that they might have cracked. It was the lives of the people flying in the infiltration craft, or his own. Silently, he began to cry.

"Don't give me the tear treatment, reploid," said Terryl, slightly exasperated and not even looking back. "You have two choices in this world: to attack or to be killed. I'm not happy about it, either, but it's the sad reality."

"I'll do what you want," said Eclipse through his tears.

"Hm?"

"I'll go!" Eclipse screamed, glaring daggers at his creator. "I'll kill! I'll murder! But for your sake, Terryl, I hope you're happy! Because it's people like you that are the reason we're still fighting this war!"

And with that, Eclipse vanished through the hatch. Terryl heard the thud seconds later, of Eclipse's foot slamming into the hatch full force.

* * *

It wouldn't have been quite so bad if Commander Midnight had assigned him a legitimate task. Gloaming rather enjoyed being on a mission. He enjoyed being in the field, the responsibility of being in command, and the adrenaline rush of battle. And if Midnight had assigned him to do something that truly needed to be done, he would have accepted happily.

But he was just the reinforcements this time around. He and his squadron, with all of their heavy weaponry, were only permitted to oversee the loading of the supplies at the freighter junction.

A sigh escaped his lips. He _had_, after all, asked for something to do. He just hadn't known it would be so lowly, so degrading. This was the type of job his lieutenants were made to do. He had been built to charge headlong into battle, not to watch underlings load supplies onto a freighter.

And yet here he was, he and his squadron, shortcutting their way through the uncharted Twilight Desert in a Y-42 gyro plane, on their way to assist General Nightshade.

Gloaming frowned bitterly and cast his gaze out the windshield, past which nothing was visible but a golden haze.

This sandstorm, he mused, might be the most eventful thing that had happened on this trip. And having to rely on a computer display for navigation was just the icing on the cake. Gloaming had never cared much for computers. He much preferred technology without a steep learning curve, specifically the technology that propelled high explosives through the air. It was simple. It was effective. It was what he knew.

The sudden clank of a heavy metal object hitting the roof jarred him out of his brooding. He cast a wary glance toward the ceiling and turned toward the door.

"I'll be right back," he told the pilot. "Whatever happens, don't alter our course."

The pilot only nodded as the general stepped through the open doorway out into the loading bay. A small platoon of Black Sun's automated soldiers turned to face him as soon as he appeared.

"At ease," Gloaming told them, though his tone of voice conveyed the opposite. Nevertheless, they complied, and Gloaming made his way to the side of the plane and opened the loading bay door. Instantly he was greeted by the sting of windborne sand hitting his face. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he looked around and saw nothing. But the noise he had heard was too loud to be anything tossed around by the sandstorm. Explosives, perhaps? Possibly. And yet, there were no bases of operations out here in the Twilight Desert, Hunter or maverick.

According to file.

Just then, a reploid dropped down and grabbed onto the ledge below him.

"What the…?"

Gloaming looked at the reploid as he clambered up onto the platform, motioning for his men to hold their fire. The reploid was clad in flat black and red armor, with a streamlined helmet and a waist-length ponytail of auburn hair. And as he stood up, Gloaming could see that he was empty-handed. He evidently didn't mean to fight. Not right away, at least.

"What do you think you're doing here, whelp?" he spat at the reploid. "How'd you get up here?"

"I live here," said the reploid, ignoring the second question. "Please, listen to me carefully. I've been ordered by my creator to take you down. But I want to avoid fighting if at all possible."

"Pretty big talk for a shrimp like you," said Gloaming. "And just what makes you think you're capable of it?"

"Listen to me," said the reploid, more slowly than he had before. "I don't want to fight you. But if I fail to keep you away from our home, my creator has promised to shut me down. If I can convince you to turn back, we all win. What do you say?"

Gloaming shook his head and placed his arm around the reploid's shoulder. "Lemme explain something to you, kiddo. I don't know who you are, or how the hell you got onto my ship. But you don't go around telling people with guns what to do."

Gloaming turned the reploid around and began walking him back toward the edge of the floor.

"Moreover," he continued. "You don't tangle with Black Sun."

Something seemed to click in the reploid's mind. As well it should have. "Black Sun?"

Gloaming smiled and changed his position so he was behind the reploid.

"Yeah. Lucky you, you're not on our hit list today. So why don't you just TAKE A HIKE!"

And as he roared the final word over the cacophony of the engines, he shoved the reploid out of the plane.

As Gloaming watched him vanish into the swirling cloud of sand, he wondered how the reploid had been able to get onto the upper hull in the first place. He hadn't looked like a flight reploid. And yet he had somehow managed to land on top of the gyroplane in mid flight.

He squinted behind his visor, searching in vain for any signs that the reploid had survived. The sandstorm made everything difficult.

"Pilot!" he roared as he made his way back to the cockpit. "I want a scan done of the ground area NOW!"

"Acknowledged," said the pilot as soon as he arrived, punching a series of buttons on the secondary control panel.

"On second thought," the general added. "You better scan the air, too."

"Trouble, sir?"

"I don't know. Probably not, but who can tell with this damned storm blowing?"

Another clank, like the first, sounded from the roof. With a mighty curse Gloaming turned on his heel, taking his cannon from his back as he exited the cockpit. When he arrived, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. But that was expected only a few seconds after the noise. Even so, he didn't have much time. Fortunately, his men were already taking up defensive positions, training their weapons on the open hatch through which the reploid had entered moments before.

It was likely, Gloaming thought as he settled into a ready position of his own, that the reploid from before indeed had either flight capabilities or friends. Either way, if he planned on taking down the gyro plane, it could mean trouble. It could mean crash landing. They'd be stranded in the desert for weeks before Black Sun found them and took them back to Midnight, who would no doubt have a biting reprimand at the ready.

Gloaming grimaced at the thought. Midnight's head was swelled as it was without yet another reason to lecture him.

"Not on your life, sport," he muttered under his breath.

And that was when all hell broke loose. The bay door on the other side of the room suddenly flew open, and the loading bay, now open on two sides, was instantly flooded with a flurry of sand.

It took a moment for his electronic brain to process what had just happened. And then, too late, Gloaming realized that things had worked out just as the reploid had planned.

It had been a brilliant move. Landing on top of the plane again had not only granted him the chance to attack, but it had also focused their attention on one spot, allowing him the chance to create a smokescreen.

He heard the cries of his men as they were thrown bodily out of the plane. But blinded as he was, he couldn't risk firing his weapon. He could only stand and try to be ready when the reploid came within sight.

But the initial blow came too fast. And the next thing he knew, he was falling, watching the gyroplane as it vanished from his vision.

Cursing his own stupidity.


	4. Chapter 3: Before the Storm

Edited as of January 2. As I read it over, the last scene of the chapter just seemed very bare-bones to me. So I fixed it.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 3: Before the Storm**

* * *

Midnight was not happy. Not surprised, but not happy. He'd been reluctant to allow Gloaming a mission when, in all honesty, it probably wasn't even necessary. In fact, in any other case, he would have simply transferred Gloaming and his men to Nightshade's location. But it was impractical to simply use the transfer server for such an escapade, due to the sheer energy cost of transferring a fully-equipped heavy combat squad.

And now the ID signature of Gloaming's Y-42 was shown separate from Gloaming and his men on the projector, and the gap between them was rapidly widening. That could only mean that they had either jumped or been thrown out. Reinforcing the latter was the fact that an unregistered ID signature was displayed at the craft's helm, moving steadily away from Gloaming. Obviously, they had met with resistance. And what was more, this resistance consisted of a single fighter.

He began to chew his lip as he thought. The Twilight Desert was an uncharted territory, and it could now be confirmed as a home of hostile forces. Forces powerful enough or clever enough to take on both Gloaming and his squadron at once. There could possibly be more like this lone fighter. Worst case scenario, Gloaming and his men had just landed in the lion's den and would be dead soon.

And not only that. The Y-42 itself had not been destroyed. If it fell into the wrong hands, it would be a simple matter for potential enemies to pick out the transfer history from the on-board transfer server, which could spell disaster for the organization. Of course, it would be an even simpler matter to simply block that particular server, but that didn't solve the problem that Gloaming might actually be killed. That was simply something that Midnight could not, in good conscience, allow to happen.

Midnight pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. He had to calm down. This was all just theoretical, after all. And at that, he decided, he was probably blowing it out of proportion. There had been no casualties, just a stolen Y-42. This little blunder could still be salvaged. If nothing else, Gloaming was a quick learner. He would not allow this reploid to get the best of him twice.

Would he?

Just the same, Midnight thought, it may prove wise to offer some assistance. Via transfer server, this time, to remedy the risk of yet another stolen vehicle.

His finger hovered over the intercom button for a brief moment as he contemplated the possibility that this was some sort of elaborate trap. Black Sun had made plenty of enemies among Hunters, mavericks, and official powers alike. There was certainly a chance that one of his smarter adversaries was simply hoping for him to send reinforcements. After all, they now had a valuable card to play.

Against his better judgment, he pressed the button.

"General Crepuscule," he said, with none of the urgency that he felt. "Prepare for surface contact, possible full combat. Report to Transfer Deck A. You have six minutes."

Briefly, he wondered if sending Crepuscule, the one who had nearly revealed them only days ago, into the field, was a good idea. But then, it wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter. The only other option was to send his last general, Xenos. And he was busy with the construction of the space station.

Regardless of how things would play out, he decided, he would have to assign his men orders with much more caution from that point on. Sending Gloaming out as backup may have been unnecessary, and now this little blunder might cost Gloaming and his men their lives. The automated soldiers were expendable, but if he lost Gloaming…

It was then that he became aware that he was chewing his lower lip. With a conscious effort, he stopped. It was a bad habit, and hardly becoming of the leader of a criminal enterprise. It would be unhealthy for morale if his men were to observe such a break in his composure. It was a habit he intended to break.

"Ready, Commander," said an eager voice from the intercom speaker. Midnight recognized it as belonging to Crepuscule. He was ahead of schedule, he noted with mild amusement.

Black Sun's leader turned back to the intercom. He would break this habit after business was taken care of. Keying for Gloaming's helmet's radio frequency, he prepared to give his third general his orders.

* * *

Eclipse stomped through the hatch to Terryl's lab in a rage and kicked over the first piece of valuable equipment he could reach: a model AH-235 energy converter. Terryl looked up as his creation sent the converter toppling off its perch to the floor.

"Don't take it out on my equipment," he said irritably, looking at the broken converter. "Honestly. It'll take days to get that working again."

"You're a real nice guy, Terryl," Eclipse said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I never claimed to be," said the scientist, adjusting his glasses. "This was necessary to protect myself and my work."

Oh, I've heard that before, Eclipse thought. Same old song and dance.

"Furthermore," Terryl continued. "It is not your job to decide what is to be done about intruders."

Eclipse briefly considered challenging Terryl once more, but he wasn't in the mood for debating morality with someone who may as well have been a brick wall. And besides that, he had more important things to say.

"Guess what?" he intoned, with none of the volume but all of the venom of before.

Terryl cocked his head. "Me? I couldn't even begin to."

With an effort, Eclipse ignored his creator's biting sarcasm.

"The attack force you sent me out to stop? They were Black Sun."

Terryl narrowed his eyes. "Who or what is a black sun?"

"A criminal organization," the reploid spat. "If you ever left your lab you'd know that. I spoke to the commanding officer before taking down the ship. We weren't their target today, after all."

Terryl showed the slightest hesitation before replying, "Better safe than sorry, as they say."

"As I said before," Eclipse pressed, enunciating every syllable. "That's going to change now. They aren't nice people, Terryl. If their leader's attitude is any indication, I can guarantee they won't take this lying down."

"But they're dead, now," declared Terryl, albeit with a twinge of uncertainty. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself, more than anyone.

"Are you kidding?" Eclipse scoffed. "Any reploid off an assembly line could survive a fall from that height. Unconscious, at most. But certainly angry."

"That's why you're here," said Terryl simply, though he himself didn't sound totally convinced. "That's why I gave you such advanced combat capabilities."

Eclipse's fist came down hard on the table where the converter had been. "Don't you understand?" he said through gritted teeth. I had the element of surprise on my side this time. And granted, I might be able to fend off the attack squad from before again when they find their way here. Maybe. But I can't protect you from them when their friends decide to come back looking for you."

"And why would they be looking for me? For all they know, their comrades might have crashed due to the sandstorm."

"Terryl, you're a scientist. Put two and two together. No matter that they think happened, they will come looking for their comrades, and that will eventually lead them here."

Terryl's smugness fell away as realization struck him.

"You've doomed me, reploid," he pronounced softly.

"You doomed yourself," Eclipse amended. "I'd say you don't have more than a day to pack up and leave. This Black Sun's committed theft, hijacking and genocide. Killing an old hermit like you will be easy."

"How dare you," Terryl growled through gritted teeth. "How dare you speak to me in such a way. You reploids are all the same, aren't you? Treacherous, manipulative, and murderous."

"Murderous?" Eclipse blurted, suddenly enraged. "Who was it that insisted the gyroplane be destroyed?"

Terryl pointed an accusing finger at his reploid creation. "That's not fair."

"Not fair?" Eclipse echoed. "Try pleading for the lives of others against a stubborn human, only to have him threaten to shut you down! Then come talk to me about fair!"

A long silence followed. Terryl's face was carved from stone. Eclipse was breathing hard, and struggling to keep himself calm.

"What will you do?" Terryl asked quietly.

Eclipse chose this moment to calm down slightly. He simply shook his head in frustration and turned away, making his way to the hatch.

"Eclipse!" Terryl said sharply.

Eclipse turned, his face downcast despite the fact that his was the last word in the verbal battle that had occurred moments ago.

"What else can I do?" he said, dejected. "I have to protect you, right?"

Terryl let out a controlled sigh.

"I want you on the roof looking for any sign of intruders," he growled. "And I want to know it as soon as you see so much as one survivor."

It was Eclipse's turn to sigh. With resignation in his gaze, he lowered his head in obedience and dragged his feet out the door.

* * *

When Midnight arrived at Transfer Deck A, Crepuscule was already waiting for him. Midnight silently congratulated himself on finding such efficient generals. But then, Crepuscule in particular was always ready for full combat, a reputation he was proud of maintaining. In fact, the nicer members of Black Sun would say that Crepuscule enjoyed his work. The honest ones, of course, said that he was sociopathically insane. He approached every mission with a zeal and an eagerness that nearly always dictated that in order for a mission to be considered a success, or at least satisfying, something, somewhere, must be blown up.

Out of his mind or no, it was irrelevant. He was effective, if a bit impulsive. He got the job done, and that was what mattered to Midnight.

"General," he addressed the reploid, taking his seat in the command chair overlooking the deck.

The reploid was clad in forest green armor, and carried what looked like a modernized bow and quiver. A smug grin accented his face as he awaited his orders. He looked up at Midnight with his hands on his hips, and he kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if restless. That was one of Crepuscule's eager ticks. He was always moving, as if ceaselessly appeasing some inner monster.

"Mission for me, Commander?" said Black Sun's fourth general, with a flick of his head in no particular direction.

A vein pulsed in Midnight's temple. Crepuscule seemed largely unaffected by the gravity of the situation. Perhaps it was time he was reminded of what had happened two days ago.

"Understand, Crepuscule," he said testily. "that we are a covert organization. I want you to take me very seriously when I say that in all future missions, you are to refrain from unnecessary destruction."

Midnight was rferring to the botched raid on the Area T-4 Shipyards two days prior, and they both knew it. He'd given his subordinate his reprimand already, but it simply could not be emphasized enough just how serious maintaining their cover was.

"In the very recent past," he continued, putting special emphasis on "very recent." "we very nearly failed to carry out mission objectives because we tried to launch an assault when we were only prepared to deal with minor resistance."

Crepuscule shrugged as a smug grin crept across his face.

"What can I say?" he said. "Hunter Remnants showed up and I got carried away."

"Nevertheless," Midnight pressed. "Your mission was to acquire a number of ships for our use. Nothing more."

Crepuscule slouched as he faked an exaggerated sigh. "I know already. We went through this before."

"And now the Blade Hunters are actively hunting an organization they know by the name of Black Sun under charge of terrorism," Midnight paused to let the realization sink in. "Do you know what that means?"

"It means we've got to keep on our toes," Crepuscule said, scratching the back of his head. "I got it."

Do you? Midnight wondered. But aloud, he said, "Then I can expect collateral damage kept to a bare minimum when I transfer you to the server of a certain stolen Y-42."

Crepuscule cocked an eyebrow. His interest had been piqued. "A stolen Y-42?"

Midnight nodded gravely. "Gloaming's."

"Gloaming got himself captured?" the general guffawed. "I guess it was only a matter of time."

"Not captured," Midnight corrected, dismissing Crepuscule's disrespectful tone. "A single fighter is responsible for throwing Gloaming and his men out of their assigned craft and into the uncharted Twilight Desert. I have received confirmation that they are indeed alive and relatively unharmed. They have spotted the aircraft in question docked behind some sort of run-down independent robotics laboratory. Gloaming has his orders to flank this structure with his squadron. As it stands, we await his signal."

"Sounds pretty basic to me so far."

"Your mission," Midnight went on. "is to rescue Gloaming and his squadron, and to neutralize- _neutralize_- any resistance you meet. Inside this laboratory could possibly lie more like the reploid that threw them out of their ship, so exercise caution when engaging the enemy."

"I got it," he said, snapping his head up and down as eagerness crept back into his voice.

I'll be sending aerial backup shortly after the transfer. Until it arrives, offer Gloaming and his men necessary support."

"I'll wipe 'em clean off the face of the freakin' earth," Crepuscule said, grinning.

Midnight sighed inwardly. He hadn't understood a word. "Crepuscule, were you even listen-"

He was cut off by a beeping sound from the communicator.

_Of all the rotten timing. _

Letting out a breath, he spun in the command chair and immediately put the transmission through.

"Commander," said Gloaming's voice from the speaker.

"Gloaming. I take it you're in position?"

"All units are standing at the ready. Awaiting your mark."

"Very well, General. You may open fire."

"Roger, Commander."

"I expect to see you back at headquarters within two hours, Gloaming. And you," Midnight thrust a warning finger at Crepuscule as the general stepped onto the transfer plate. "Remember what we talked about."

Crepuscule flashed a wild grin Midnight's way as the transfer plate began to glow an eerie orange light.

"I'll be fine, mother," he said. "You worry too much."

And as the orange light consumed Crepuscule and whisked his disassembled molecules off to their preset destination, Midnight became painfully aware that he was chewing his lip once more.


	5. Chapter 4: On the Run

As of July 24, 2011, I have updated the ending of this chapter to accomodate changes in Chapter 5.

* * *

**Chapter 4: On the Run**

The hatch opened with its usual nonchalant hiss, and Eclipse skidded to a halt moments later just inside, his face pale. Terryl's head snapped upward toward the source of the interruption, clearly annoyed.

"Terryl, we've got trouble," said Eclipse before his creator could comment.

"What's going on?" the scientist demanded.

"Those Black Sun agents are back. The ones I threw out of the aircraft."

Terryl scowled, and Eclipse knew, without hearing it said, exactly what Terryl was thinking. He should have killed them all when the chance presented itself, and he was a fool for not doing so.

"Look," he said shortly, deciding to end the argument before it began. "We can stand around here pointing fingers and arguing, or we can get out of here."

Terryl held his gaze a moment longer, and then began keying the first lockdown code on his computer. Perhaps a minute later, an explosion sounded just outside, rattling the windows. Eclipse's hands closed around the beam sabers fastened to the back of his vest. But it was more for comfort than for practicality's sake. As a state robotics researcher working under Area X Governor Giovanni Harken, Terryl couldn't allow his research to fall into the hands of criminals or Mavericks. Eclipse understood this, and thus knew why his creator was taking the time to lock down the network.

But time was quickly running out.

"Terryl, just leave it," he said urgently. "They're not interested in your data."

Which was probably true, but Eclipse had no way of knowing for sure. Either way, however, the research data was becoming woefully irrelevant. In whatever case, Terryl either didn't hear him or chose to ignore him, keying in the second lockdown code as a second explosion rocked the foundation of the laboratory.

Those explosions had been ranging shots, Eclipse noted, but it was almost too close to matter. The next shot would hit the building, and they would be dead.

"Terryl, do you want to die?" he shouted, grabbing his arm and yanking him from the control console.

"Is that a threat, reploid?" Terryl shot back as he pulled his hand away.

"Terryl! Those Black Sun agents are just outside, and their next shot will bring this whole place down, data or none! Now the question is, do you want to be here when that happens?"

Again, Terryl adamantly held his gaze, his expression carved from stone, eyes wide and his chiseled mouth obstinately overturned. He was not willing to concede the point; at least not fast enough for them to escape.

The third explosion came hard and without warning, and as per Eclipse's prediction, it indeed hit the laboratory itself. In a heartbeat, half of the building was transformed into an inferno, claiming papers, computers, capsules, and all manner of unfinished projects.

Eclipse tackled his creator to the ground moments before a flying piece of debris knocked them both unconscious. But Terryl was either too shocked or too oxygen-depraved to protest, and Eclipse seized him gruffly by the arm and began leading the way toward the hatch.

It took them the better part of a minute to cross the remains of the laboratory on their hands and knees. Fortunately, the massive damage caused by the explosion hadn't affected the hatch itself, and it slid open without protest.

Eclipse got to his feet, helping his silently dumbstruck creator up as he went, and broke into a dead run around the rear of the building toward the ride chaser's shed, wishing that he hadn't locked the door earlier. A quick glance behind him told him that Terryl was having no problems keeping up, and had no further protests to speak of. Good. At least he had the sense to focus on staying alive for the time being.

A fourth explosion sounded from behind them, and Eclipse watched out of the corner of his eye as a fiery cloud of smoke billowed from the lab's interior. They had escaped just in time.

To his right was where he had landed the gyroplane. It was still there, unharmed and unoccupied. Briefly, he considered ditching the ride chaser plan in favor of escaping in the gyroplane. It was, after all, closer than the shed, if only marginally. And in a situation like this, half of a second could mean the difference between a speedy getaway and a fiery grave. But he dismissed the idea as quickly as it had come. The craft was built for utility, not speed. Besides, flying away with one of their own craft was incentive for Black Sun to follow them. After all, they had already shown to what great lengths they would go to in order to salvage what was theirs. He wouldn't challenge them again on that front.

No, the ride chaser was their best bet.

They reached the shed without incident. Eclipse skidded to a stop and spun around in one smooth motion, his eyes tracking back the way they had come for signs that they had been followed. Thus far it didn't seem that Black Sun's agents had realized that they had escaped the building.

"Terryl, get the door open," he ordered, his hand closing around one of his weapons just in case.

As unaccustomed as Terryl was to taking orders from Eclipse, he nevertheless quickly got to work unlocking and opening the door. But at that particular moment a green-clad figure appeared from the loading bay of the gyroplane. Eclipse didn't remember leaving anyone aboard the craft when he had taken it. He had done a thorough once-over to make sure it was deserted before he even sat down at the controls. But as the man flashed an insane grin and took two identical long and tapered pieces of metal from his back, Eclipse knew at once that they were suddenly in much deeper trouble than he had supposed.

He heard the door open behind him, and as the agent in the gyroplane began to raise his arms, weapons in hand, he spun on his heel and shoved his creator into the shed ahead of him, following immediately as a salvo of plasma bullets shot past his head and punched a series of smoldering holes through the thin plaster wall behind him.

Eclipse reached the ride chaser just as Terryl settled into the craft's passenger seat. Saddling the driver's seat and neglecting to take the time to engage the safety harness, he flicked the power on and the machine whirred to life as another salvo of plasma bullets exploded over them.

Eclipse wasted no time; he maneuvered the craft out of the garage with as much speed as he judged necessary. And then he floored the accelerator, feeling Terryl's arms tighten around his midsection in an effort to keep himself from falling off.

They were well on their way to completing their escape, but they couldn't relax just yet; Eclipse could hear the blasts of Black Sun's heavy weaponry launching rockets at him even from their rapidly widening distance. Some of the resulting explosions came uncomfortably close to the ride chaser, and he had to maneuver the craft around a few of them. To top it off, several volleys of plasma shots peppered the ground behind them, alerting him to the fact that the agent with the bow-shaped weapons hadn't given up.

They were rapidly approaching the launch site of Terryl's experimental spacecraft, he noted peripherally as he dodged a volley of plasma bullets. That was something else Terryl would be leaving behind. And briefly, in the corner of his mind, he found he could understand Terryl's initial reluctance to leave. It was, after all, his life's work. The spacecraft, along with all of his other projects.

Another explosion yanked him back to reality. Biting back a curse, he banked sharply on the controls, barely missing the blast radius. And then, throwing the craft into full throttle, he closed the air brakes and hunched over, sacrificing maneuverability for pure speed.

Which was perhaps the worst thing he could have possibly done. One of the bowman's volleys happened to find their intended target as he accelerated, and the resulting explosion threw both him and his creator to the ground, where they tumbled for perhaps a dozen meters before rolling, rather painfully, to a stop.

As he lay in the sand, on the brink of consciousness and pain pervading every fiber of his body, the repercussions finally began to sink into his weary mind.

It was then that he began to realize just how much trouble they were in.

* * *

"Aaaaaand that's a wrap. Nice work, fellas."

Gloaming lowered his weapon as he watched the limp and unmoving forms of the reploid and his human companion in the distance, sprawled some meters away from the smoldering wreckage of their speeder. And as his visor zoomed in, he began to recognize the black and red armor of the reploid who had thrown him out of his ship.

He always took satisfaction in a job well done. This time was no different, and he looked on with a sense of pride seeing the cloud of smoke billowing into the sky from the remains of the destroyed building. But it was more than that, this time. He could now take pride in the comfort of having paid back what he owed the unnamed reploid in full. But at the same time, it was almost humiliating, having been bested by the reploid before when this time he had been taken care of so easily, and with Crepuscule's help, no less.

He frowned at the thought. Of all of the people Midnight could have sent, it happened to be the one person least sympathetic to simple blunders such as this, and to Gloaming in particular. Midnight hadn't been able to send anyone else, true, but he would rather have taken his chances alone than having to deal with Crepuscule.

"Hey, Gloaming," came a tinny voice over the radio.

Gloaming's frown turned into a furious scowl. Speak of the devil.

"What do you want?" he growled in return.

"Oh, come on," Crepuscule chided. "No need to be so hostile. We're all friends here."

If Crepuscule were here in person, Gloaming mused, he might consider showing him just how much of a friend he was. Smashing his face in with the butt of his cannon would make for a good start, and he might be inclined to try something else if that failed to leave an impression.

"Besides," Crepuscule went on, interrupting Gloaming's fantasies. "I don't think you're striking the proper tone with your rescuer."

A vein pulsed in Gloaming's temple. "Shove it, Crepuscule. We're not exactly helpless out here."

"Course not," said the voice in his ear, with unmistakable smugness. "That's why the commander sent me, isn't it? Needed a hand with simple demolition?"

Gloaming could hear Crepuscule laughing on the other side of the line. It was an unnatural cackle that bordered on the maniacal. It was times like these that had, early on in his career, made him question the general's sanity. But he was beyond that point now. Having worked with Crepuscule for so long, he had graduated to simply accepting that his comrade was out of his mind. Those around him eventually learned to live with his sociopathic demeanor, but it didn't make it any less infuriating.

"I never asked for your help," he said at last. "If it were up to me, I would have taken care of this myself."

"Sure, sure. 'Cause that worked _so _well last time."

Gloaming shook his head, finding the fingers of his free hand curling almost subconsciously into a fist.

"Did you call just to gloat?" he said through gritted teeth, struggling to keep his temper under control. "Or did you have something worthwhile to say?"

The general's laughter subsided into mild amusement. "A little from Column A, a little from Column B. I'm on my way over there now to give our friends a healthy dose of death and destruction. Wanna come along?"

"Thanks, I'll pass," Gloaming replied bitterly. "Weren't you ordered to pick us up in the gyroplane?"

"Feh! Details…"

"Anyway, I'm going to call up Midnight and let him know the aerial backup won't be necessary."

"You do that," said Crepuscule, and Gloaming could see the general grinning in his mind's eye. "Later."

Grinding his teeth all the while, Gloaming double-tapped his helmet's earpiece, opening up a direct line to Midnight's command room.

"Commander, this is Gloaming," he said. "Mission accomplished."

"Excellent," came Midnight's smooth, cultured legato over the line. "What's the situation?"

"No casualties to report, sir. We won't need the aerial backup you mentioned, after all. The laboratory turned out to be the private residence of a particularly reclusive machinist and his reploid pet."

Midnight seemed to mull that over for a moment, either taking it in or deciding what to do next. Gloaming could understand his apparent surprise; he himself had been expecting an assembly line of reploids like the one he'd met on the gyroplane.

"I see…" Midnight said at last. "And what's become of them?"

"Unconscious, I think," said Gloaming, sparing another glance at the huddled forms of the human and reploid. "It's hard to tell at this distance. Though Crepuscule just said he was on his way to finish them off."

"Open up a channel to Crepuscule," Midnight said immediately. "Let him know I want them alive."

"Alive, sir?"

"I'll explain later. Do not, repeat, do _not _allow Crepuscule to harm them further."

"Yes, sir. Out."

Gloaming cut communications with Midnight and immediately reopened the channel, this time keying for Crepuscule's helmet communicator.

"Yo," came the general's devil-may-care greeting in his ear. "You change your mind?"

"Hardly," Gloaming replied acidly. "There's been a change of plans. The Commander says he wants our friends taken in alive."

There was a brief silence as Gloaming watched the green-clad figure in the distance skid to a stop.

"Are you sure?" came the reply, and he could hear the disappointment in Crepuscule's tone.

"I just got finished talking to him," Gloaming said exasperatedly. "Of course I'm sure."

A sigh from the other end of the line. Even though he was too far away to actually see his expression, Gloaming could picture rather vividly Crepuscule's face as he accepted the order. Mouth contorted into a twisted grimace, eyes twitching uncontrollably as he wrestled with the prospect of not getting to finish the job. It was a face he'd come to know well over the years, every time he was ordered to exercise restraint for any reason. Restraint wasn't in his nature, but he would obey Midnight. Somehow, he held the general's respect, even if the latter didn't act like it.

"All right," he said at last, starting back the way he had come at a brisk jog. "Get over here and make sure they don't go anywhere till I bring the gyroplane over."

"Way ahead of you," said Gloaming, motioning for his men to follow as he hoisted his giant weapon onto his back and started toward the fallen figures. "Out."

* * *

Eclipse's mind reentered consciousness slowly at first. Almost subliminally, he tried to recall the events that led up to his incapacitation, but the most he could conjure was a vague semblance of what had happened. Explosions, bullets, and a nameless fear…

He sat up and cast a woozy look about his surroundings. Windowless steel walls surrounded him on three sides, with the fourth wall consisting of matter lasers forming the all too recognizable shape of prison bars.

Terryl was sprawled on the floor next to him, a cast over his left leg. Faintly, Eclipse wondered why Terryl was injured. And even more why his wound had been treated. And then, with a burst of consciousness, it hit him. They'd fallen off of the exploding ride chaser in the desert. And that brought the most important question of all crashing to the front of his mind: Where were they now?

Eclipse tried with surprising success to keep calm as he realized that they were probably in the custody of the Black Sun agents. Which didn't entirely make sense to him. After all, before he lost consciousness, Black Sun had tried to vaporize them. Clearly they had wanted him dead. And they could have done away with him at any time during his incapacitation. So the question remained: Why hadn't they?

Beside him, Terryl stirred.

"Dr. Terryl," he said, again surprised by the calm present in his voice. Perhaps it was due to his secondary function as Terryl's bodyguard that he was able to keep such a cool head.

The scientist groggily opened his eyes, rubbing his head as he sat up. Peripherally, Eclipse marveled that even after a tumble like the one they'd taken, the only thing Terryl had broken was his leg. That in itself was impressive for a sixty-six-year-old human. Even more impressive was that he had woken up as soon as he had. To his credit, Sycorax Terryl was a durable human.

"Hm?" Terryl mumbled. "Eclipse? Where are… Urgh!"

Terryl clutched at his broken leg, his fingers closing around the cast. And through the pain contorting his creator's face, Eclipse could see that consciousness had fully taken hold.

"We've been captured, I think," the reploid said with the same calm as before. "Though they seem to want us alive, for whatever reason."

"I see…" Terryl grunted through clenched teeth. "If that's the case, it must have been them who bound up my leg. Who did you say these people were, again?"

"Black Sun," Eclipse replied, slightly annoyed. "I heard about them the other day, myself. Not the kind of people you want to tangle with. Demolitionists and thieves, from what I understand."

Terryl's face was grave as he took it all in, his head absentmindedly bobbing its acknowledgement.

"But the question remains," Terryl said at length. "What could they possibly want with us?"

"Revenge comes to mind," Eclipse offered, his voice layered with an edge of sarcasm. "Interrogation, perhaps. After all, we did cause them a bit of trouble."

Terryl frowned. "I will admit to that."

Eclipse got to his feet, wincing as he found that he himself wasn't without painful reminders of their fall from the ride chaser.

"So what do we do?" Eclipse asked, helping his creator to his feet and serving as his crutch as they made for the cell's single bed, a meager affair consisting of little more than a metal slab and a ragged blanket. Eclipse helped his creator lower himself onto it, favoring his injured leg.

"What can we do, Eclipse?" Terryl said at length, sighing heavily.

Terryl was right, of course. If they were indeed captives of Black Sun- and there was no doubt in Eclipse's mind that they were- then any early attempt at escape or disobedience would only serve to land them in deeper trouble. They needed to wait for the opportune moment to act.

Eclipse cast a nonchalant once-over around his new prison as he realized- with some frustration- that they could be waiting for quite a while.


	6. Chapter 5: Midnight

At five chapters plus an introductory prologue chapter, I would have hoped for some feedback. Feedback has always been what's kept me working on the story, and I can't help but think that without a single comment, I'm writing for myself here. All in all, comments would be much appreciated.

That said, there's been a bit of a change to Chapter 4's ending scene as of July 24, so you may want to check that out beforehand. Thanks for reading, everyone.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Midnight**

"Sixty-eight dead, fifty-three wounded, and at least another twelve unaccounted for. I'm telling you, whoever attacked this place wanted those ships for something. And whatever's happening, this isn't the last we'll be seeing of 'em."

The captain's clear southern accent rattled off only what Edge had already known, having deduced what was, to his mind, the blatantly obvious. The Area T-4 Shipyards were in shambles due to Black Sun's raid. Though considering the casualties and the sheer scale of the damage, he wouldn't have hesitated to call it an act of blatant terrorism.

"That's been established, Nova," he muttered testily. "What I want to know is where the force went after the incident."

"Unknown, Commander. Our Hunter friends over here sent out three scouts to tail 'em, but we haven't heard back from any of 'em. And frankly, I don't think we're going to. I mean, it's been two days already."

For the fifth time since arriving on the scene, Blade Commander Edge heaved a heavy sigh. Even with all of the increased Maverick activity as well as four bomb threats in the past week alone, the mass theft at the Area T-4 Shipyards two days prior took the cake.

Though Area T-4 was out of the Blade Hunters' normal jurisdiction, the mind-boggling statistics his second-in command had rattled off more than justified their presence here. This had, of course, left Area T-4 law enforcement short-staffed, to say the very least. And being the closest hunter remnants in the vicinity, it now officially fell to Edge and the Blade Hunters to keep tabs on Area X as well as its sister city. At least until the city got back on its feet

Edge didn't look like authority. Not official authority, at least. He had the build of a seasoned fighter, a lean reploid clad in dirtied golden armor and a tattered brown scarf. His emerald eyes exuded confidence and determination and little tolerance for nonsense. He looked like a capable fighter, certainly. But few people pegged him with the experience needed to run an organization like the Blade Hunters. Which, of course, was quite the opposite of the truth. Edge had been leading them for twelve long years, and had proven his competence many times over.

His companion was Captain Nova, his second in command and, rather famously, his close friend. The reploid wore a cloak that covered the better part of his body, even from the front, and his crystal-like helmet glowed with a dark blue light.

"Great," said the commander, frowning bitterly. "That's all we need right now. As if we didn't have our hands full enough with the investigation itself." He turned to face the bulk of the shipyard, in all its emptiness and destruction. From his vantage point on the catwalk, it became apparent just how thorough an attack this had been. Needless to say, every ship that hadn't been stolen had been damaged beyond repair by what Edge could only assume were high-yield explosives, leaving only charred, crumpled metal in its wake. Observation towers and docking ports and catwalks like the one he was standing on had been broken and twisted beyond repair. And even from far above the scene, the air reeked of the foul stench of charred flesh and burning fuel.

"When did we lose contact?" he asked Nova at length.

"Roughly seven hours after their departure," said the captain, taking his place beside and slightly behind his commander.

"I want full video from their helmet cams," Edge ordered. "Audio, too. We need all the info we can get about these Black Sun people."

"Not possible," said Nova. "These guys weren't equipped with live feed cams. Whatever they recorded was lost along with 'em."

Edge scowled. "We just can't catch a break, can we?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about breaks for quite some time," said the captain. "These incidents aren't showing any signs of slowing down. I'm actually wondering if this Black Sun is behind these recent bomb threats, too."

"The bomb threats?" Edge snorted. "That's a stretch. We get a bomb threat at least twice a month. From regular mavericks."

Nova shrugged casually. "Well, think about it. Four in the past week alone, all of which turned out to be empty threats. Then we get this massive attack, almost as if they wanted us to drop our guard." Nova raised an eyebrow quizzically, challenging Edge to at least think it over.

And Edge did think it over. Nova had long been a trusted friend and one of the most competent officers in the Blade Hunters, so his opinion could hardly be taken lightly. And his theory made a good deal of sense, as well. But just the same, he hoped he was wrong. Any maverick that could afford to waste time on not one but four bomb threats just to divert attention from their true target was no common foe.

Just the same, it was his job as Commander not to overlook anything, no matter how much he didn't want to think about it.

"If that's true," he said at length. "Then we're not dealing with your average mavericks. This could turn into another Revenant if we're not careful."

"Oh, wouldn't that be fun?"

"Commander!" said a voice behind them. The two turned to face its owner, a reploid clad in black and silver armor shaped rather like a hat and suit.

"Captain Scathe," Edge identified him. "Report."

"We've picked up something, sir. Activity on the northeast border. At the freighter junction."

Edge frowned. "Trouble?"

"Possibly. Most likely common mavs, but at this point we can hardly afford to take chances."

"Especially with the city in the shape it's in," Edge agreed. "Get us a transfer vector now."

"Already done, sir. I came to request permission to investigate."

"Granted," Edge said. "In fact, I'll come along, too. Nova, I want you back at base monitoring our progress. And look into those Black Sun rumors whenever you get a free moment. I want to know everything there is to know about them."

"I'll do my best, sir."

"Good. As usual, I expect nothing less."

Edge followed the pair as they went to carry out their orders. The Area T-4 Freighter Junction wasn't far from the shipyard. Surely, Black Sun was too smart to come so close to the scene of their own crime only two days after it happened.

But then, as Scathe had pointed out, they could hardly afford to take chances.

* * *

It was 7:03 PM when Eclipse was woken from his rest. Technically, reploids didn't sleep the way humans did, but a slight period of hibernation coupled with a built-in auto-recharge function served the same purpose in much the same way as sleep for a human. It was the most elementary of robotics, and had been around since the dawn of the sentient robot more than a century ago.

Eclipse first heard the sound of matter lasers deactivating, accompanied by heavy footsteps. He groggily opened his eyes and, to his mild surprise, was faced with the reploid he had met aboard the gyroplane. And he looked just as happy as he ever had; in short: not very. He walked with the unmistakable measured briskness that became a trained military officer, and he carried a pair of modernistic crutches under one massive arm.

"Knock knock," said the reploid with a menacing look as the matter lasers reactivated behind him. "Hope I didn't wake you, beautiful."

"You," Eclipse managed as he hurriedly sat up. "You're the…"

"Black Sun Third General Gloaming, at your service," the reploid growled, evidently not quite through with sarcasm. "Thought I was dead, eh?"

Eclipse let out a breath. It seemed the reploid was as willing to listen as ever.

"Of course not," he sighed. "I never tried to kill you. I just needed you to leave."

"That's what you said before," said Gloaming, leaning against the far wall and folding his massive arms across his chest. "But the truth is, I don't care about your priorities. You ended up causing me a lot more trouble than you're worth, and I can't forgive you for making me look like a fool."

Eclipse frowned. "I'm sorry for what happened, General, but peaceful negotiation failed. You left me no other choice."

Gloaming sighed. "Still talking big, eh? Haven't you figured out where you are yet?"

Of course, Eclipse and Terryl had had a very good idea before Gloaming even set foot in the cell. And the fact that Gloaming was here now only confirmed what they had already gleaned- that they were indeed Black Sun's prisoners. But Eclipse knew when to keep his mouth shut, and this was definitely one of those times.

"You're our prisoner now," Gloaming explained, somewhat unnecessarily, his tone slightly less than calm. "So start acting like it before I have to cave your damn face in!"

To this Eclipse said nothing. He simply waited for Gloaming to go on. Fortunately, he didn't have long to wait. Gloaming let the silence linger for another four seconds before speaking again.

"Lucky you, though," he mused. "The commander wants to talk to you."

Eclipse's throat went dry. The leader of Black Sun wanted to speak with him personally? Any way he could possibly turn it in his mind, it wasn't a good thing. After all, Eclipse himself found it hard to imagine prisoners being useful for anything else other than hostages. And what ransom could be held for an old hermit and his reploid errand boy? They would hardly be useful as a negotiation tool, especially now that all of Terryl's research had been mostly destroyed.

And remembering Terryl, Eclipse' eyes instinctively flicked toward his creator, still sound asleep in his bunk. It was a small motion that Eclipse had hoped Gloaming wouldn't catch, but the hope was in vain.

"Don't worry," the general said. "Dear old dad can come along, too."

Eclipse mentally debated whether or not to remind Gloaming that he and his creator were on anything but favorable terms. Ultimately, however, he decided he could spare no effort to avoid provoking a large man with a large gun. He rose from where he sat and mechanically crossed the cramped cell to were his creator slept, not sure why he could feel Gloaming's eyes on him the entire way.

"I'm awake," said the scientist, before Eclipse could lay a hand on him.

"That makes it easy," said Gloaming, tapping his foot impatiently. "No need to explain it twice. Let's go."

Eclipse helped his creator get to his feet, taking those few seconds to ponder how it was that he had ended up in this situation. It had been on Terryl's orders that he had involved himself- and consequently Terryl himself- with the dealings of the underground's most feared criminals. And given the circumstances, he hadn't had any choice in the matter.

And yet he had asked for this. Only a few minutes before that order came, he had pondered his life as Terryl's errand boy, and wondered when that chain of monotony might end. Now, it seemed more and more that that dream was slowly taking shape, but in all the wrong ways.

Gloaming handed Terryl the crutches he had brought, and the scientist took them without a word and hobbled after the massive reploid. Dejectedly, Eclipse followed Gloaming and Terryl out of the cell, every step seeming to drag him a little farther away from home.

Wherever home was. Perhaps it was simply a place in his mind, that comfort zone he had so often entertained leaving. But whatever it was, it was out of his hands now. All they could do was survive long enough for things to improve.

Or to escape.

Gloaming led them through a series of long corridors, breezing past the occasional small accumulation of reploids with little more than a stoic nod in their direction, which was in turn met with a full salute. Gloaming obviously commanded great respect among his subordinates. Respect, or else fear.

Eclipse also noticed that aside from those groups, the corridors were sparsely populated, and the general spared barely a glance back at them every twenty seconds or so. For being fourth in command of the underground's most feared criminal organization, he was certainly taking his prisoners lightly. It occurred to Eclipse that he may have an opening to make his escape, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it had come. He had no idea where he was or how to find his way out of what was starting to become a labyrinth of corridors leading to nowhere. And with that realization came the apparent reason for Gloaming's loose watch: this place was probably almost impossible to break out of without detection and potentially lethal resistance.

"Welcome to the Mountain Fortress," Gloaming retorted, breaking the silence without looking back. "It's an old Maverick hideout we found and revamped. It's built into the side of a mountain and protected by the best troops Black Sun has to offer. You won't be getting out without my say-so, so abandon any ideas you might have about escape."

Eclipse remained silent once more. Again, it seemed like a good idea to avoid provoking him. And given how the conversation had been going so far, there was no telling what kind of offhand comment might do just that.

Gloaming, however, seemed suspicious of the silence, as he glanced back to confirm they were still following him. Then, satisfied that they were, he turned away again.

"So exactly how far is your Commander?" Eclipse managed at last.

"Funny you should ask now," Gloaming asked, stopping in front of a door that looked absolutely no different from any of the others. "We're here."

Gloaming keyed the hatch open and led them inside a dimly lit room, illuminated only by the flickering of a number of computer monitors against the far wall. In a chair in front of the monitors was the silhouette of a reploid.

A silhouette that rose as they approached and the hatch slid closed behind them.

"Ah, Gloaming," said the voice, cold and with plenty of composure. "I see you managed to rouse our new friends."

Gloaming leaned against the wall and gestured Eclipse and Terryl forward.

"I hope you aren't hurt very badly," said the reploid, stepping toward them. "You may need all of your strength in the coming days."

"Are you Black Sun's leader?" Eclipse asked quietly, already not liking where the conversation was headed.

"I am," the reploid answered coolly. "My name is Midnight, Commander of Black Sun. And you are?"

"Just a researcher and his bodyguard," Eclipse answered. "I apologize for any inconvenience we may have caused you, but if you'd just let us go…"

"Inconvenience?" Midnight interrupted, his tone either amused or quietly enraged. "Masterpiece of understatement, reploid. I feared the worst when General Gloaming was thrown from his craft. Perhaps, though, I was worrying needlessly. After all, seeing the sorry state you and your human keeper are presently in, you hardly seem to have been worth my time."

Silence. Neither Eclipse nor Terryl dared to speak.

"Be that as it may," the reploid continued. "You displayed commendable resourcefulness in besting my men, and if eyewitness testimonies are accurate, without once drawing a weapon."

"Thank you," Eclipse said quickly, not quite sure what was about to happen.

"And you, human. You're his creator, correct?"

"That I am," Terryl affirmed with a nod.

Midnight may have smiled, but it was hard to tell in the dim light of the monitors.

"You have proven your own set of valuable skills," the reploid said, a certain satisfaction in his tone.

"What is it you want from us?" Terryl said quickly.

Midnight let the silence linger and harden for a moment before giving his answer.

"I have a proposal," he said. "In exchange for letting you go and forgetting any of this ever happened, you will both work for me for a period of time."

Eclipse felt a flash of anger rising up within him. The injustice of it all was almost too much to take. He had been ordered to kill people he knew nothing about and later chased from the burning remnants of his home and imprisoned by the very same people, and now here he was being asked to join up with Black Sun, as if he owed them some debt. Working under Terryl had been bad enough, but at least then he hadn't been a criminal, at terrorist, and above all, a maverick. If nothing else, Eclipse still had his own honor, and his own self respect.

But perhaps there was a way out of this yet. If he could pretend to go along with the crime lord's deal, he might later be able to find an opportunity to escape. Besides, for a terrorist, Midnight seemed agreeable enough. Perhaps he was the type who could even be reasoned with, if that was what it came to.

He looked at Terryl, who gave a serious nod in acknowledgement. Eclipse couldn't say he knew what that meant, but it was all he could do to play along with whatever the man had planned, at least for now. But regardless of what his creator had planned, it was his intention to simply wait until the opportune moment to make his move.

They both turned to face Midnight, but Terryl was the one to speak.

"Exactly what would our duties entail?" he asked.

"For you, human," said the reploid, beginning a slow stride toward them. "You will work closely with our head engineer and assist him in his various duties. As for you, reploid… You will work directly under me."

"Doing what sort of work?" Eclipse asked cautiously.

"I happen to have a job I would like you to take care of. After that, you may both go free."

"What kind of work?" Eclipse repeated, his patience wearing thin. Clearly this Midnight was the long-winded type.

The reploid finally stepped into the light, revealing black and silver armor beneath his cloak, crescent-shaped tattoos beneath his piercing green eyes…

And a cold, cynical smile.

"Oh, just a bit of assassination work, that's all," said the reploid, his smile never once leaving his face.

Eclipse's heart caught in his throat. Perhaps it shouldn't have come as such a surprise; after all, he had known Black Sun to be a group of demolitionists, murderers, thieves, and probably mavericks, to top it off. And at this brief job description he almost spoke out, but then remembered his plan.

_Just for now… Until we can escape…_

"All right," he said with a sigh. "I'll do it."


End file.
